Red Sole Clues (11 page)

Then she started swinging. Maniac that she was, she stood in the empty hallway, drumming her fists against an imaginary wall. One that wouldn’t give her a few broken digits. A few seconds in, her heart rate kicked up and her mind zoomed in on an image of Otis.

Yes.
Get all those endorphins working.

She stopped swinging, closed her eyes and took an enormous gulp of stale air. Sucked it all in as her body hummed and the panic scouring her mind subsided.

“I’ve got this.”

She opened her eyes and studied the chipped paint along the edge of the security office door.

Forget Kurt. If she couldn’t find him, she’d find someone else. The event organizer even. Anyone who could locate him, make an announcement, whatever, to get Kurt back to the office.

She hobbled along on her maybe-broken toe, doing a goofy limp-run-walk routine until she reached the main hallway and mowed through clumps of people. “Pardon me, excuse me. Injured person coming through.”

An older man about her father’s age with dark wavy hair came toward her holding his hands up in the classic stop signal. “Are you all right?”

No time for that, Mr. Good Samaritan.
She had a missing dog to find.

“I’m fine. Thank you.” She kept moving and the man fell into step beside her.

“You appear to be upset.”

Old man, you have no idea.
She let out a harsh, painful laugh. Upset might be the understatement of the decade.

“My dog is missing. A woman stole him. Walked him right out of the building. Now I need to find security and I just kicked the stupid wall and broke my stupid toe and Otis is still gone.”

Lucie stopped, lowering her hands to her knees, because—
holy cow
—that rush of words and the huge burst of oxygen it took combined with her throbbing toe sent the room spinning.

Don’t pass out.

“Who?” the man asked. “Kurt?”

Lucie lifted her head. “You know him?”

“I should hope so. He’s my son.”

K
urt’s father may
have just saved the day, and Lucie contemplated smacking a big wet kiss on him.

“Thank God I ran into you,” she said, following the older man and Kurt into the security office.

“I was coming to tell my son goodbye and saw you. The way you were limping, I figured you needed help.”

She needed help all right.

Moments later, Kurt showed up and slid into his chair, nudging the computer’s mouse to fire up the system. “Thanks for calling, Dad.” He pecked away at the keyboard. “Let’s see what we’ve got.”

“I don’t understand people,” his father said. “Stealing a dog. That’s awful.”

“You’d be surprised,” Lucie said, “my friend is a detective. For months he’s been working a case involving show dog thefts. People steal the dogs and then sell them. It’s horrifying.”

“And your dog is a show dog?”

At that, Lucie laughed. “No. He’s way too stubborn for that. He was in the talent show. And he’s not really my dog—I’m the dog walker. But he’s…special. I love him and I have to get him back. I have to.”

Lucie and Kurt’s father huddled at the back of the chair and peered over Kurt’s shoulder. “I’d say cue it up to around 9:40. We should be able to see her walking out the door.”

Kurt clicked a link and a black and white image of the outside door popped up. A bar appeared on the screen and he clicked again, dragging the little icon until the time stamp read 9:40.

He hit play and sat back, folding his arms as he watched.

Any second the woman—barring some kind of insanity that was fairly typical in Lucie’s world—should be walking right through that door.

The door swung open and out bounded Otis, as usual thinking he was the alpha dog and taking the lead. The blonde looped the leash around her hand a couple of times and jerked it.

Lucie clamped her teeth together. She’d never been a violent person, aside from those infrequent moments, typically involving Joey, when her temper got the best of her.

But if that blonde were standing in front of her right now, she’d hospitalize her.

On the video, before Otis could step from the curb, a car passed through the shot and the woman once again jerked the leash.

The idea of sweet Otis in this woman’s ugly clutches? Sickening.

Maybe I’ll do more than hospitalize her.

She might need Ro for this one.

The woman stepped off the curb and hustled straight across and out of the shot.

No. Nooo, nooo, nooo. That couldn’t be it. “What happened? Why can’t we see where she went?”

“Hold on.” Kurt tapped a few keys and clicked on two links. “These should be the parking lot views from the corner of the building.”

Two black and white images of the parking lot popped onto the screen and Kurt tiled them side-by-side. He clicked, setting the first video in motion.

Lucie poked her finger. “There she is!”

“Gotcha,” Kurt’s father said.

When Otis stopped to sniff the rear bumper of a car, the woman jerked the leash again. Otis, being as stubborn as the entire Rizzo bunch combined, ignored her. He’d move when he was ready.

Good boy.

“Swear to God,” Lucie said, “if she hurts that dog, I’ll take her out.”

Finally, Otis cooperated, trotting just ahead of the blonde as she led him to the end of the row and out of the camera’s view.

Kurt clicked again and the second video rolled. “Let’s see where she takes us.”

The woman walked three rows over, finally making a left into a row. Sticking to the right, she picked up her pace, moving swiftly now. Otis slowed as he glanced up at her. She checked her watch. Must have been behind schedule. Lucie knew that feeling all too well.

But being behind schedule might be the best thing—each second Otis wasted gave them more time to catch up.

“Come on, Otis, do your thing, buddy.”

The woman kept walking, maybe halfway down the long row, but Lucie couldn’t quite tell. She stopped at an SUV, popped the rear door and patted the floor of the cargo area. Otis plopped his butt on the pavement.

Good boy!

Lucie waggled her hand. “She’s crazy if she thinks he’s getting in there. That would take way too much energy.”

The woman poked her finger, then motioned Otis into the car. Nothing.

Keep it up, Otis.
Obviously growing frustrated, the thief checked her watch again and shook her head. Then she squatted, wrapped her arms around Otis’s not-so-tiny bulk and hoisted. Whoa, on the first try she heaved him into the SUV.

“Damn, she’s strong,” Kurt said.

Lucie frantically shook her head, her panic soaring as the woman unclipped the leash and lowered the door.

Poor Otis. This rotten, degenerate person was stealing him from the people he loved.

She smacked her hand on her chest, waited for the woman to move and prayed for a clear glimpse of the license plate.

Kurt’s dad slipped his arm over Lucie’s shoulder and squeezed. “We’ll find him. Have faith.”

Please, please, please.
Lucie fought welling tears and nodded.

On screen, the woman checked her watch again.

What’s she waiting for?

Then she held her keys up, clicked the fob and headed back toward the building.

*     *     *

Marlowe led Tim
and the Pickneys out the north exit, exactly where Lucie said the woman and Otis left the building.

Morning sun offered a good blast of heat and took the chill out of the October air. Having faith in the weather report, Tim had opted for a light jacket that did the job easily.

Marlowe lifted his snout, sniffed and went back to the ground. Being a cop, Tim had been around tracking dogs before, but the department had spent tens of thousands of dollars training those dogs. This super wiener? He’d been trained by his owner.

“Oh,” Mrs. Pickney said, her eyes dancing, “he’s on him. Hal, look at him go.”

“He’s a beast,” Mr. Pickney agreed.

Well, beast might be taking it a bit far. For a wiener dog that clocked in at a whopping thirteen pounds.

But if Super Weiner pulled this off, Tim would figure out a way to get him recognized. Get him some kind of award from the PD.

That would be the least he’d deserve for saving Otis. And the Lucie factor couldn’t be dismissed. If they didn’t find Otis, Lucie would…she’d… Hell, he didn’t know what she’d do.

But it would be ugly.

The devastation would level her. And he couldn’t have that.

He looked down at Marlowe, prowling side to side, his nose to the ground, unmercifully stalking his prey. Maybe he was a beast.

“O’Hottie!”

Tim let out a grunt. Three rows over, Roseanne waved both arms over her head. Did she think he’d miss her with that big hair and the screaming?

“O’Hottie?” Mr. Pickney said.

Tim held up one finger, gave the man his best I’m-in-charge stare. “Don’t.”

Mr. Pickney pulled a face then went back to Marlowe. Wise man.

“Tim,” Ro called again.

Better. At least she’d gotten the hint he wasn’t responding to the nickname she’d cursed him with.

“Keep going here,” he said to the Pickneys. “I’ll catch up.”

He jogged through a few cars and met Ro by a mini-van with
I love my Mastiff
and
People Suck. Buy a Dog
bumper stickers.

So harsh.

The adjacent Volkswagen was no better with one of those plastic hanging window signs that read
My German shepherd is smarter than your honor student.

Holy hell, these people were intense.

He met Ro’s gaze. “What’s up?”

She waved her hand, long red nails glistening in the sun. “We’re searching these cars. No sign of Otis or the perp.”

Perp.
Tim puffed out his cheeks, containing a laugh. This woman. Totally insane.

“Where’s Joey?”

She pointed over her shoulder. “Thataway. We’ve checked three rows so far. No sign of Otis. Listen, O’Hottie, if that dog is—” she slashed her hand across her throat, “—our Lucie will lose it. I can’t have that. I love her too much.” Deep in drama mode, she let out a heavy, sigh. “And what are you doing standing around?”

Standing around. Nice.

“I’m not standing around. The wiener dog is tracking Otis.”

Her red lips formed a perfect
O
and Tim nodded. “Yeah. It’s something to see.”

“Where’s Lucie?”

“She’s in the security office. Trying to get video of where the
perp
took Otis.”

“
Very
smart. Because there are a lot of freaking cars out here to check. Remind me to wear sneakers to our next manhunt—doghunt—whatever. If I get dirt on these shoes, I’ll murder someone.”

Already exhausted, Tim wrapped his hand around his forehead and squeezed. How did Joey deal with her day in and day out? The maintenance must be unbelievable.

After this, he was drinking. Heavily.

“Tim!”

He swung around, found Lucie sprinting from the building, her ponytail flying.

She waved her phone. “I’ve got it. The video.”

He ran toward her and Ro fell in behind, her heels clickety-clopping against the blacktop. He left her in the dust, but since she was pretty much making him nuts right now, he didn’t feel so bad.

He met Lucie in the middle of the row and she skidded to a stop, breaths coming hard. “This place is huge. I just ran all the way around looking for you.” She slapped her phone into his hand and bent at the waist, bracing her hands against her thighs. “The blonde put Otis in the car and went back inside.”

“She’s still
here
?”

“As of five minutes ago, yes.”

Ro joined them just as Tim cued up the video on Lucie’s phone. “What’s happening?”

“Lucie found Otis.”

“Where is he?”

Lucie stood tall and jerked her thumb. “In a car a few rows over. We need to get him and then find this blonde so I can kill her. I think she might be trying to steal another dog.”

“That bitch,” Ro seethed. “Let’s get her.”

Lucie nodded. “Otis first.”

That’s all Tim needed. An emotionally strung out Lucie and her normally wacked-out friend hunting down a dogjacker. What a mess. Tim held both hands up, patting the air. “The two of you, relax.”

Three rapid barks sounded—
Super Weiner
—and Tim pivoted.

Mrs. Pickney waved one hand. “We found a dog. Come quick!”

Tim and Lucie took off running, dodging between cars, Ro once again clippety-clopping behind them but screaming for Joey, who was halfway across the parking lot.

For a small girl, Lucie had some speed, but Tim’s longer legs ate up more ground and he got there first, coming to a halt in front of a newer model navy SUV.

“There’s a dog inside,” Mr. Pickney said. He pointed to the back window. “Right back here.”

Lucie ran up, stopped beside Tim, tugging on his sweatshirt. “This is it. This is the car I saw on the video. Is he in there?”

Tim cupped his hands against the window. And, holy crap, there was a dog. Snoozing away.

And with that mashed-in mug? The jutting bottom teeth?

Definitely Otis.

Tim’s shoulders dropped a full six inches and a he let out a burst of air. “It’s him. You did it, Luce. You found him.”

L
ucie nudged in
beside him, pressed her hands and face against the window so she could see that sweet baby, just waiting for them to rescue him.

While he slept.

Only Otis.

She stepped back, her shoulders shaking with a weird combination of a relieved sob and a strangled laugh.

They’d done it. They’d found him.

Mrs. Lutz.
That poor woman was still inside searching.

Lucie straightened up, snatched her phone back from Tim. “I have to tell Mrs. Lutz. And then—” she waggled the phone, “—we’re hunting this blonde down.”

“Yeah.” Ro pinched her face, propped her hands on her hips. “Unleash me on this bitch.”

“Oh, my,” Mrs. Pickney said.

Tim stared at Ro, blinked twice and pulled his phone from his pocket. Probably ordering a strait jacket.